


but a gentle someone always came

by CampionSayn



Series: okay, but What If...? [2]
Category: Scooby Doo! Mystery Incorporated (Cartoon 2010)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Found Family is the Best Trope, Gen, Pre-Canon, Spoiler Warning: Brad and Judy ALWAYS suck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:07:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29497779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampionSayn/pseuds/CampionSayn
Summary: Every member of the Original Mystery Inc. knew Mayor Jones was the Freak, except Cassidy.Why might that have been, hm?
Relationships: Brad Chiles/Judy Reeves, Fred Jones Sr. & Fred Jones
Series: okay, but What If...? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123034
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	but a gentle someone always came

Getting pregnant had been an accident. An accident that Judy thought she did a pretty good job pretending wasn't really happening for months and months.  
  
Bless Bred, he never said anything about the weight or her tendency to snap at him a bit more often, but they were just really picking up on their trapping business thanks to the money that Ricky had loaned them; he probably just assumed it was nerves, looking back.  
  
But then there had been a kick from her insides, and she'd dropped some materials (wire, spikes, a whole twelve gallon bucket of shrapnel) and felt much like the crew on the ship in _Alien_. There had been screaming, but she wasn't sure if it was her own or Brad's.  
  
Even in the ambulance that had been called by their client at the time, she wasn't sure who was making the noise, until Brad panicked and slapped her and she closed her mouth to suck on the inside of her cheek.  
  
  
_Oh_.  
  
  
The doctor looked surprised that she hadn't been paying attention to her body, but that surprise quickly turned into something more disturbed when she kept repeating that she couldn't be pregnant, "Really, doctor, it's impossible. There must be another reason. Please check again," even after he'd wheeled in a sonogram, applied the cold jelly and showed them a screen full of a resting fetus maybe five months along.  
  
  
She kept resisting and resisting, until Brad had taken her home, despite the doctor's wishes to have her go through a few more tests, and when she got home, she just couldn't stop crying into his shirt. He had been as unsure of what to do as she was.  
  
But both of them knew that this would ruin everything, _everything_.  
  
  
Neither of them had talked about wanting kids, and that was fine, they only really cared about each other and building a life together _(...thinking about what was hidden beneath Crystal Cove that was so important that it had its own curse and monster attached to it...)_ and traps. A child never entered into the equation, never mind that they couldn't even afford it.  
  
  
But she was too far along, the thing growing in her belly kept pressing hands and feet against her, filling her up with something like disgust and something maybe softer.  
  
They talked and talked, for days and weeks, until she was in, _maybe_ , her sixth month and the thing kept pushing her insides even late into the night and early in the morning.  
  
  
Then, finally, Brad came up with an idea.  
  
  
"What do you say we pay Crystal Cove a small visit? Not to search for the treasure, but to set a trap."  
  
  
"What kind of trap?"   
  
  
"We've never caught a monster before," Brad had smiled, pieces and plans forming in his head so clearly that she could read them in his eyes, "Maybe now's as good a time as any."  
  
  


* * *

  
Judy had been feeling awful the entire ride up to Crystal Cove, and the old Spanish church, constantly having to pull over the car so she could vomit up foul smelling green bile, sweating terribly.  
  
Neither she or Brad ever thought to change their plan, though. Even if while fitting the church with traps she felt something give way in her. She looked down after she'd tied a trip wire fast, finding the floor, her skirt, her underwear full of grey-white with streaks of red.  
  
  
Maybe the smell is what drew the creature to them?  
  
  
Brad had screamed, falling victim to a foot snare they knew they didn't set, snapping him up and hanging him from the rafters.  
  
  
She'd heard, and called out his name, breathless and dizzy, and unable to get up off of her knees as pain slammed into her from the inside, pouring out of her more and more red.  
  
  
A shadow passed over her like a cloud, like the tide of things to come, and she felt herself fall towards the dirt, but was stayed by hands with sharp black claws and lifted up by arms like wired tree trunks.  
  
  
Judy didn't open her eyes once during the whole of screaming, back going rigid, her soiled clothes pulled off and settled beneath her; Brad yelling something from the rafters that she could hear, but wasn't able to understand in her state.  
  
  
  
The thing inside of her had a monster's help getting out into the world. A hissing, angry voice growling for her to focus and push, slamming her hips down each time she tried to curve her back; getting fed up and holding one of her legs close to her chest, wrapping her own arm around it.  
  
She had been so afraid of those nails ripping into her that she didn't notice them splayed wide, palms open, to receive flesh of her flesh.  
  
  
  
When it was finally outside of her, squirming like a bug on a pin without any sound, she'd done her best to edge away, finally opening her eyes to look up where Brad had stopped struggling uselessly like a fish on a hook.  
  
  
He looked at her, and she looked at him, and neither of them looked down at the Freak tying off the cord with bits of its own suit. Two ends knotted, and the center cut clean through with those long black nails.  
  
  
  
Something in her head was spinning like water running down a sieve, and she closed her eyes again. The cord still inside of her felt disgusting, like the rest of her grimy with sweat and blood, and she didn't even try to pay attention to the monster snarling. Even as it let Brad down it had all the presence of an angered demon, voice like thunder, and spoke in rhyme.  
  
  
_"Stupid creatures, both of you._  
_Was I not clear on what I'd do?"_  
  
  
Brad backed away from the Freak, steps rigid and shaking, over to his wife with the intent and purpose of getting away somehow. She knew he'd carry her like an anchor and chain on a ship if he had to, even with the monster seething danger, that long cutlass at his side no idle threat.  
  
But he was still holding the baby, she finally realized. She had thought it was dead, no sound coming from it, but the way he held it so close to him...  
  
  
"We're sorry," Brad stuttered once more, those terrifying eyes fixed on him in hatred, more than they were fixed on her in disgust, "We needed the money the treasure would bring us. We weren't expecting a baby, please, we just got in over our heads."  
  
  
  
_"Does not take a brilliant mind,_  
_To see this was something you should have left behind._  
_Better ways and better deeds, could have brought you currency;_  
_Instead, your fate is once more left to me."_  
  
  
The Freak's free hand finally touched the cutlass, and Brad tensed so hard that Judy could actually feel it in the way he clutched her hand, even as her limbs were going numb as her brain along the edges.  
  
  
"Trade you," she finally coughed up, tightening her hold on Brad's hand, looking at the creature as he finally acknowledged her existence.  
  
  
Judy did her best to raise her head, point a finger at the bundle of flesh in black tipped hands with a thatch of blood streaked golden hair on it's head tucked into old fabric that might have been centuries old as far as either of them knew.  
  
  
The Freak narrowed his eyes and tilted his head.  
  
  
_(It was a he, she could feel it in her bones. The same way she felt like she'd seen those eyes and that disgust before when they were young, even if she didn't know that was what it was at the time.)_  
  
  
"...Right!" Brad spoke in her place, as he so often did, following her down a train of logic that they often shared despite themselves, "Firstborn in your arms, isn't that what the stories say? You keep that, and we leave. Isn't that what monsters like you prefer?"  
  
  
The movement was blurry to her, the moment suspended, but if Brad said anything else, she wouldn't know.  
  
  
All she really saw was the look on The Freak's face as he took out his sword with intent.  
  
  
  
Darkness washed over her like the tide, and there was a scream, and that was all she knew for days and days.  
  
  
*  
*  
*  
  
  
  
She woke up two weeks later, IV strapped to her arm, medications flowing in her around the clock. A clean, sterile smell entered into her lungs and she had to close her eyes and squint at the early morning light coming in through the hospital window.  
  
  
Brad had been asleep next to her, and she'd had to get the chart from the end of her hospital bed as quietly as possible to get some answers.  
  
  
Toxemia. Premature labor. Infection. One fallopian tube removed.  
  
  
She'd had to skim a little of everything before she finally found the doctor's notes on oddities in her state of being.  
  
  
_'Baby given to Safe Surrender site. Husband said it wasn't breathing. Injured arm while getting away; no infection, but stitches were required.'_  
  
  
Judy felt herself relax when she hadn't even felt herself go rigid, her heart monitor keeping a steady pace below eighty, and she set the file back in its place.  
  
  
She turned to face Brad, and reached across until she was holding his hand, rubbing circles across his thumb and knuckles with dried bits of blood and healing splits that looked deep.   
  
  
She couldn't imagine what would have happened if the Freak had finished him off while she was unconscious, and she would really have to get to the point of him filling her in on what had been happening while she was unconscious, but until then, she was just happy and grateful that her husband really could seem to do anything when it came to protecting the both of them.  
  
  
  
The trap being properly set was just a bonus.  
  


* * *

  
Getting riled up and frantic for Ricky on the phone hadn't been as difficult as one might have thought, what with Brad beside her and her post-partum hormones causing her to cry every ten minutes anyway; but it was still an unpleasant chore.  
  
  
And a gamble, given that neither of them were sure they could convince Ricky out of hiding to do a little walk through.  
  
  
Still, it had to be him. Out of all of them, he'd changed the most from two years ago. Still tall and ready to run at a moment's notice if the going got tough, but he'd grown pale since Cassidy went her own way, he'd grown in real facial hair, and he was somewhere between being built and being a slob; it was hard to tell with the longcoat he'd taken to wearing.  
  
Gaining forty pounds in a rather short period of time would do that, Judy supposed; never mind that some of that extra padding hid muscle from his brief forays into taking up boxing to earn a living between moves from one town to another.   
  
  
"Please, Ricky, _please_ ," Judy almost keened, eyes red and puffy and nose wet and disgusting from her place in the hospital bed, "We just want to be sure. If the baby is still in Crystal Cove, then that means The Freak is just a person wearing a mask. Maybe we can find out who they are--"  
  
"Maybe we could all go home safely, then," Brad added, rubbing her shoulder encouragingly, handing her a handkerchief so the horrible hospital tissues wouldn't chafe her nose any more than they already had in the last few days.  
  
"Thank you, Brad."  
  
"You're welcome, Judy."  
  
  
"That's a lot of _maybe_ you're having me go back there for," Ricky finally spoke up, hesitant and thinking over every possibility.  
  
  
Neither Brad or Judy were sure if they liked this new development in their old friend. It was much more than being cautious, it was much more than being scared. He was being specifically thoughtful about the turn of events, weighing the pros and cons like gold against bronze.  
  
  
_(A little part of Judy, right down deep, was glad of this. That part of her that had once been young and idealistic was glad her old friend had learned from the mess with Pericles.)_  
  
**(The part of her that was conscious felt annoyed that this wasn't as easy as they thought it would be.)**  
  
  
Judy had one more fact for him to weigh that would tip the scales.  
  
  
"At least you could tell us if the baby is even still alive, Ricky."  
  


* * *

  
Crystal Cove had three fully staffed hospitals, but only one with the neo-natal ward with the capacity to treat a baby born too early with symptoms from Toxemia.   
  
  
Ricky had to be careful to avoid the nursing staff in order to look through any emergency admissions that took place the day Judy said she'd had the baby, and it took even more careful maneuvering to avoid being seen on the ward.  
  
  
Nan Blake had apparently gone into labor with her fifth child and Barty had basically claimed the hall for him and their four older daughters; so that had been the second biggest scare Ricky had to undergo that entire week.  
  
  
The Blakes might not have thought very much of Brad and Judy in high school, but Nan had liked Cassidy after his brainy ex-girlfriend found Nan hiding under the baseball bleachers having an anxiety attack and helped talk her through it, staying with her while Ricky had gone to find Barty and offered to take the most popular couple in school to a still-open café for the signature Blonde Noir coffee and old fashioned donuts.  
  
_(Ricky wouldn't have called them friends, but Cassidy once pegged them all as strangers with memories, so he had a soft spot for them.)_  
  
  
He had to take three flights of stairs around to find what he was looking for.  
  
  
  
A private room, heated just right, with the lights down low. Evidence of someone constantly beside the incubator that sat in easy reach for doctors to get to in an emergency; a wrinkled quilt wadded up for comfort, and books in reach to read, doubtless, aloud to the patient. Children's books as well as literature for the much older; _Annotated Fairy Stories_ , _The Catcher in the Rye_ , the history of Central America, _Kissing the Witch_ \--to name just a few that Ricky could see at first glance.  
  
  
The baby was asleep, a tiny breathing tube attached to it-- _them_ , Ricky corrected himself mentally--gurgling a little with each exhale; the wires that were stuck to the skin of their chest made the machine beside them beep every three seconds.  
  
  
The thatch of blond hair was less obvious with a tiny blue cap fitted atop their head, but with how small they were, with all the evidence before his eyes, Ricky knew it was the right baby. He stepped just close enough to place a hand on the glass case protecting the infant, seeing their little chest rise and fall almost peacefully, though their hands were gripped tight, as though in discomfort, head tilted to the side as though they were waiting for something.  
  
  
  
He'd had little time to just be glad the small thing had lived, though, as the bathroom door he hadn't noticed opened, and a tired looking _Fred Jones_ stepped out, adjusting his glasses and yawning wide...  
  
  
Before he blinked and found Ricky in front of him, still as a statue and eyes wide as a deer before it was hit with a semi.  
  
  
_Oh_.  
  
  
While Ricky was absorbing quite the heavy bludgeon of betrayal and realization, dots connecting where they hadn't been able to even when he and Cassidy used each other as sounding boards, Jones was faster.  
  
Ricky had forgotten until that moment that Jones had been rather well known in his college fraternity, damn near a legend in his own right.  
  
And there was a _reason_ for that.  
  
  
His back hit the wall, his feet hung in the air and he just tried to stay as calm and limp as possible, as one does in such situations. Ricky might have been a little stronger than when he was just a teenager, but he had nothing on Jones and he really, really, _really_ didn't want to die from his neck being snapped and his remains put somewhere nobody would ever think to find him.  
  
  
_(Ricky held no illusions that Jones could absolutely get away with it, too.)_  
  
  
"First Chiles and Reeves, and now you, too?" Jones spoke lowly, but with feeling, not even pretending for the sake of a show; the false face of a friendly, helpful teacher's assistant gone with what seemed to be whatever was left of his patience for Mystery Incorporated.  
  
  
  
"You had to...expect them to try," Ricky choked, his hands trying to find purchase on the wrist at his throat, feet pressing to the door to find something to hold him up. Instinct was winning over reason, "You can't just...steal a baby...and not expect them to send help."  
  
  
The look of anger and annoyance Jones wore withered and turned, something like offense taking its place, " _Steal_?"  
  
  
And then there was _clarity_.  
  
  
  
  
The arm was drawn away and Ricky could breathe again. Jones simply dropped him and didn't even try to stop his descent to the floor when his legs refused to hold, taking in great gulps of air and rubbing at his neck where there would definitely be a bruise later in the evening.  
  
  
  
The man above him, to his credit, waited for Ricky to catch his breath and look back up at him before speaking again, stepping away from the younger man and back over to the baby that had started to squirm in distress at the sounds of a scuffle.  
  
  
"Nice to see that you're still playing Follow the Leader, Owens," Jones said flatly, lifting the lid to the incubator, wrapping the baby in a little blue blanket that had been folded off to the side and then placing them _(tenderly, carefully)_ into the cradle of his arm, "I suppose that's why you're here alone and Cassidy isn't anywhere near here, at least."  
  
  
"...What?"  
  
  
Jones took a seat back in the chair with the quilt, which Ricky realized was a rocking chair, starting very gradual motion back and forth, eyes completely on the child, sure that they were calmed down and perfectly comfortable before looking back at Ricky's question.  
  
  
His eyes held something like pity in them. Ricky would remember that as long as he lived.  
  
  
Ricky knew Jones, looking back as time moved on and he grew into a shell of a person watching the world beyond a monitor, spoke nothing but the truth in that chair even before he opened his mouth. Driving home the knives in his back that he hadn't even noticed being placed there until someone spoke the right words.  
  
  
It was something like that night before everything fell apart. A curse begun; only not.  
  
  
"I did not steal him," Jones said, "I'm not some creature from a Tolkien book. Even though I intend to claim that treasure, and will absolutely waste _those two_ if they ever come back here; there are better ways to do it than snatching a newborn."  
  
  
"Then why," Ricky was choking even with all the air in the room available to him; he trembled as he stood up, taking in Jones and the baby and trying not to feel sickness creeping up on him, "Why would you...?"  
  
  
  
Jones met Ricky's gaze head on, and the younger man shut his mouth, teeth making an audible _click_.  
  
  
  
The baby cooed into the skin of Jones's chest, not breaking the feeling in the air, but making it more solid, more real; something that didn't need saying.  
  
  
Ricky knew that this didn't really change anything between Jones and Mystery Inc. but it certainly changed his perception of the man once again. And so soon after being hit with the facts plain as day before him.  
  
  
He sighed heavily, searching through his coat pockets for the _Plan B_ he'd hoped, somewhere deep down, that he wouldn't have to use, because a part of him still trusted people who had been his friends.  
  
  
  
"I take it he's not a hostage, then?"  
  
  
Jones practically growled, " _No_ ," with more venom than Ricky had ever heard anyone spit out--and he'd been a perch for Professor Pericles for _years_ before the gang split up.  
  
  
"But you're not leaving him alone, are you?"  
  
  
This time, Ricky felt every bone in his body tell him danger was present with the look the man gave him, but the answer was the same.  
  
  
"No."  
  
  
Ricky cleared his throat and looked away, down at the floor like he was a child caught throwing stones through windows, "And how do you expect to explain this to people? Won't they wonder about the mother, about why you're alone in this?"  
  
Jones sneered, an absurd amount of arrogance coating his tongue, "I find that Salinger put it best, even if I can't quote him exactly; people never notice anything and if you act like you know what you're doing, they're inclined to follow whatever you say."  
  
  
Well.  
  
  
Hands that had stopped shaking pulled out a pair of papers he'd filched from Brad and Judy's own hospital room, setting them atop a worn copy of _Les Miserables_ and then returned to fists in Rickey's pockets.  
  
  
One was the chicken scratch notes Judy's doctor had left out about her condition, her bloodwork, and the story that she and Brad had made to the police; all the reasons why Ricky had hoped they were really worried about the child.  
  
The other was a blank birth certificate.  
  
  
  
Ricky took one more look at the baby, curiosity winning out over self-preservation as Jones considered the papers and considered over Ricky, "What are you going to call him?"  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Three rings and the phone was lifted from its station in Judy's hospital room the next morning. Brad quicker than Judy to reach for it, more alert from not sleeping, but rather staring out the window at the night engulfed in stars, only half the moon full. A huge difference from the new moon the baby had been born under, night so dark on the drive fleeing for their lives that Brad almost crashed the car twice heading for the next town away from Crystal Cove.  
  
  
"Ricky, yes, hi, how did it--"  
  
  
_"The kid is alive and he's **safe**. Fred Jones took him in,"_ the voice on the other end of the landline was so firm, Brad blinked a little at how harsh it was, stunned despite himself, _"Stay out of Crystal Cove; the both of you. And don't call me again."_  
  
  
The line went dead, nothing but the drone on the other end filling the air between Brad and Judy before he set the phone back in its cradle and looked to his wife.  
  
  
Judy had cut her hair that morning, waiting out the call from Ricky, shearing her long tresses as both a way to remake herself when they left the hospital, and a way to pass the time.  
  
  
Her head felt lighter and brought an alertness she hadn't felt in months since she'd learned she was carrying. The sheaves of gold that had become dirty were bound up in a braid in the suitcase that had been sitting beside her bed since Brad had brought her in.  
  
  
"So," Brad began hesitantly, "What do we do now?"  
  
  
Judy smiled, and took his hand, ignoring the dull ache in her belly that had been settling for a stay since Ricky had left for the Cove, "Now we have time."  
  
  


* * *

*  
*  
*  
  
Some years passed before Ricky found his feet in the world, building up a company, building an empire big and strong enough to keep him sheltered from anything that could have sought to do him harm; before he even had the _thought_ of Fred Jones cross his mind again.  
  
  
Of course it would come from bankrolling Cassidy, supporting her without giving even the smallest inkling that the money she was getting as repeat bonuses from her clients in the music industry actually came from some dozen shell companies he controlled.  
  
  
It was creepy, he _knew_ it was creepy, to have her small station bugged, her audio equipment bugged, cameras everywhere, but they weren't _all_ to keep tabs on _her_. Some of them were just to gather information as a whole once she returned to Crystal Cove as Angel Dynamite of K-Ghoul.  
  
  
She was good at what she did, landing many opportunities to host parties for the extensive amount of rich people that occupied coast cities such as theirs, even with the amount of supernatural happenings that went on from one day to the next.  
  
  
The day she landed a gig for DJing the Blake quadruplets eleventh birthday party was the day Ricky realized that he did the right thing seven years prior.  
  
  
  
Each of the Blake elder sisters had invited at least twenty guests a piece, many of them of higher class and many of them bringing along their parents, but after an hour of having to listen to Barty and Nan, Ricky was pleased to have his interest piqued, as well as Cassidy's, by the youngest Blake girl, Daphne.  
  
  
Cassidy had looked outright stunned when the tiny redhead had approached her behind Barty's back as he spoke with one of the waiters, dragging a blond boy of the same age behind her with intent and nervousness. A little unopened can of cherry cola was clutched in her other hand, and she stood on tiptoes to set it next to Cassidy, but away from the music equipment.  
  
It was a bribe. An adorable bribe.  
  
  
"If I give you this, can Freddie hide under your booth, please? The noise is really scary for him, and I was gonna go find his daddy."  
  
  
Ricky couldn't see Cassidy's face from the angle she was looking down, but he could hear her voice well enough, and he knew she was giving Daphne the softest kind of smile, bending down so they could hear her better over the noise and lifting the cloth draping her table like unveiling a hidden chamber, "You can keep the soda, sweetheart. And if you tell me your friend's name, I can call his daddy to the booth for him so you can stay here with your friend."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Really, really."  
  
  
The girl seemed more than happy to supply Cassidy with the name, helping Freddie down into the dark, where he placed his hands over his ears and tried not to cry more than he already had with his knees drawn up to his chest; Daphne taking a seat next to him so they looked like two rabbits in a hutch. Just close enough to touch shoulders, but not so close that the little boy looked like he was being suffocated.  
  
  
"His daddy's name is Fred Jones and Freddie's full name is Fred Jones Junior."  
  
  
And that look on Cassidy's face as she tried not to break her smile and draped the cloth over the opening so the children could feel safe... When she smoothed over the music into something softer and called on Jones to please come to her booth...  
  
  
When Jones was there no more than forty seconds later, rattling off apologies to Angel, sticking his head under the table like a worried Border Collie looking for a lost sheep, thanking Daphne for her help, and picked his son up so his tiny legs wrapped around him and his blond head was tucked under Jones's chin...  
  
When the man thanked Angel-Cassidy-Dynamite one last time and offered Daphne his hand, saying something about gathering up the only other kids Daphne had invited to her sisters' party and their dog; talked about going to the park where it was less crowded, but still had ice cream due to summer being in full swing and vendors were out selling whatever they could regardless of their ever-lasting sunburns...  
  
  
  
_Oh_ , it was the best Ricky would feel for a long time, if ever, again.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from: _Lullaby For a Stormy Night,_ by Vienna Teng.


End file.
